Cooking Lessons
by B. Wordsworth
Summary: The first and foremost lesson of cooking: food and lust never mix. Ever. Well, Draco Malfoy…perhaps, he could be the exception. Oh, does it help that he happened to be her student? Mm, tastes like trouble. Makoto Kino / Draco Malfoy
1. Chapter 1

**Cooking Lessons**: Chapter 1

Synopsis: The first and foremost lesson of cooking: food and lust never mix. Ever. Well, Draco Malfoy…perhaps, he could be the exception. Oh, does it help that he happened to be her student? Mm, tastes like trouble.

- This chapter will be a prologue of sorts, so it shall be somewhat boring.  
- I am quite aware of characters deaths in the HP books, but I've obviously kept them alive for the sake of my story.  
- This is rated **M** for a reason; as in **sexual scenes **(I'm a huge flaming perv, obv), **cursing**, occasional **violence**. Don't flame me for that.

-:-

"Cooking classes!?"

The loud exclamation erupted from the deep bowels of the Slytherin's common room, the person who had spoken throwing his class schedule aimlessly over his shoulder.

The tall, ungainly male collapsed onto a near-by chair, vengefully raking a hand through his short-cropped mane of muddy brown hair. The seventeen-year-old Gregory Goyle sighed then lolled his head back, his dark almost unfathomable black eyes staring plaintively at the heavens above him.

"Why, in Merlin's name, did Hogwarts start instructing cooking classes?!"

"To prepare us for real life, stupid." A voice answered, slightly muffled by a large treacle tart being shoved down the owner's mouth. After a few more chews, eighteen-year-old Vincent Crabbe eagerly snatched another pastry of sorts from his slacks pocket, beginning to consume that sweet soon after.

"Stupid? If anyone is stupid around here, it's you." The brown-haired warlock argued hotly, obviously wounded by his companion's words.

"Just what are you trying to say?" The eighteen-year-old demanded suspiciously, spewing a mouthful of crumbs in the process.

"That you're stupider than I am." Goyle confirmed in a matter-of-fact tone, large arms crossing over his chest. Vincent rose from his seating on one of the leather sofas, pudgy fingers curling into round fists.

"Oh really?"

"Will the two of you shut your mouths already! You're both equally stupid!"

The two bickering males wrenched up instantly at the scowling command, turning their attentions to the fireplace.

An extremely tall male stood just before the flaming ingle, his back turned to the two squabbling warlocks. The individual suddenly spun his heel, the tail of his black cloak billowing behind him airily.

This one was almost jarringly pale, skin a ghostly white shade with a head of soft silver-blonde tresses. The perfectly straight strands spilled plainly over his brown and into his disturbingly icy blue eyes, which were currently narrowed with ire at the moment.

"You command direction so beautifully, Draco." Came an airy sigh, causing the nineteen-year-old Draco Malfoy to wince slightly.

A tiny slip of a girl came sauntering out of the shadows, a handful of books gathered in her grasp. Her hair was short ad black, cut just at the tops of her shoulders with dull, almost lifeless black eyes.

Pansy Parkinson opened her mouth to say something when the class bell echoed the air, signaling the beginning of classes for the day. Draco silently thanked Merlin as he made fast strides for the exit, Crabbe and Goyle flanking either side of him.

-:-

It was the eighth and final class for the day. Under all circumstances, Draco Malfoy would've been elated, ecstatic…jubilant even. But currently, he was the farthest thing from it.

Instead of taking useful courses like Arithmancy, Flying or even the dreadfully boring History of Magic; sixty precious minutes of his life were going to be spent cooking.

Yes, cooking.

The nineteen-year-old powerhouse scowled darkly in his seat, situated next to Crabbe who extracted another one of his hourly snacks from his pocket. He'd be lucky to pass the course what with the bottomless hole next to him.

"Who do you think the teacher is?" Pansy inquired excitedly from behind the older male, leaning in slightly for a better hear.

Draco sneered to himself, contemplating briefly which hex he could use on the dark-haired female. Girls took to the Malfoy heir like bees to honey, unable and unwilling to pull away from the sinfully attractive, disgustingly wealthy male.

But Pansy Parkinson was the most persistent – and most irritating – of the bunch.

As the nineteen-year-old finally turned back to answer the still awaiting witch, the door came swinging open. And he couldn't remember for the life of him what in Earth, heaven and hell he was going to say.

A relatively tall woman entered the room, making wide strides to her desk and plopping her black satchel onto the table. She was dressed in a pleasantly snug, sleeveless black turtleneck that tucked neatly into a tantalizingly tight high-waisted skirt of dark, forest green suede. The hem ended just short of her knees and a pair of shiny, black stilettos encased her feet.

Her head of thick, chesnut curls were pulled up into a high ponytail; the tips grazing the curve of her back. But what were most catching were her eyes; these shimmering emerald green pools that glinted a confidence incomparable to any other.

She looked about eighteen or so, too young (and too damned hot) to possibly be their instructor.

"Hello, my name is Makoto Kino, your new culinary arts teacher." The virid-eyed vixen announced as she shuffled through the contents of her bag.

"You may address me as Professor Kino."

As she finished setting up her desk with the proper utensils, she clasped her hands before her lap, glancing up at the horde of students before her. She smiled nervously.

"I suppose if anyone has any questions, you may raise your hand. But please, when you ask, just announce your name and house, so I could get to know you all better."

Draco sneered as Hogwarts' resident bookworm promptly raised her hand, practically lunging from her seat with excitement. The auburn-haired professor smiled and gestured towards the girl, who quickly rose to her feet.

"My name is Hermione Granger, Gryffindor." The seventeen-year-old declared proudly, her warm brown eyes shifting to cast an angry glare at a few snickering students at her left. She lingered before turning her attentions back to the instructor, absently shoving her thick mass of honey-brown hair behind her ears.

"And you were a beater for Beauxbaton's Quidditch team, weren't you? From what I recall, you took a nasty blow first year and never came back to the game."

The Culinary Professor visibly winced at the inquisition, her cheeks warming at the scandalous whispers that echoed her students. She cleared her throat for a moment, finding it strangely hard to breathe, before answering.

"Well Ms. Granger, you are a well-informed one I see." Makoto started slowly, struggling for the right words as she continued. She constantly rubbed the palms of her hands against her skirt, trying to rid the clammy moisture that had formed in nervous habit.

"She is right, you see. I, uhm, I am eighteen – like most of you – and was a student of Beauxbaton's. In fact, I had graduated just last June. When my Culinary instructor heard wind of Hogwart's new Culinary Arts course, she petitioned me for the job. And, well, here I am!"

The Beauxbaton alumnae tittered anxiously after the declamation but soon stopped as no one shared in her gaiety. There was an initial rift of pure, unbearable silence that followed; something the eighteen-year-old loathed unrelentingly. She cleared her throat for what seemed to be the umpteenth time in the past fifteen-minutes before continuing.

"Well, now that we have that resolved; how about we continue with the class." She announced uncertainly, trying her best to ignore the questioning and almost disbelieving glances she was receiving.

The tall brunette pivoted slightly and snatched a large tote from under the table, depositing its contents out onto her desk. A mound of entangled, multi-colored clothes and fabrics tumbled out, one or two spilling off the table.

"These are your aprons." She announced happily, snatching the fallen articles off the floor. She slipped the halter-like garment over her head, absently tying the ribbons about her waist to keep it in place.

"Each of you will receive one and must wear it every class lesson. The one you receive today will be yours for the rest of the year, so please don't lose it or something." She explained plainly enough, arranging the smocks into four neatly stacked piles.

The eighteen-year-old remained silent afterwards, glancing at the door almost longingly. She pursed her lips then turned her stare back onto her students, a smile cracking her unnerved mask.

"Well, I think we've had enough for today. Class is dismissed early. As you leave, grab an apron on your way out."

Needless to say, the class erupted in exclamations of joy and gratitude, hastily scrambling to their feet. They nearly sprinted to the door, grabbing the pinafore along the way.

Makoto grinned knowingly, recalling how desperately she had wanted to flee her eighth period classes. She was about to make her own departure when she realized one of her new students had lingered.

"May I help you?" She inquired off-handedly over her shoulder, struggling to undo the binds of her own apron. The brunette nearly jumped with surprise when she felt another pair of hands glide over her own, untangling the ribbons.

"My name is Draco Malfoy." He informed in an almost…sensual tone, his arm extended expectantly for a salutatory shake. The Culinary Professor felt herself rendered motionless as she caught sight of the student.

A devastatingly attractive one, at that.

She blinked, almost snapped from her musings, before forcing her hand into his and shaking it twice. She was completely thrown out of sorts (again) as the devilish rogue suddenly bent and placed a chaste kiss on her knuckles, his liquid-blue eyes never leaving hers.

The nineteen-year-old Slytherin smirked against her hand, reveling in her painfully perturbed responses. He quickly straightened, clutching his own pinafore in his grasp as he murmured his good-bye.

He spun his heel and left the room, leaving Hogwarts's new Culinary Arts professor in bewildered unease. He whistled a happy tune along the ways to his sleeping chambers, good and in high spirits.

It seemed cooking lessons were going to be delectably fun.

-:-

Those wondering, I had previously posted this and sorta kinda…accidently deleted it. X.x So, please old readers (all two --) come back!

Review (pretty please?)


	2. Chapter 2

**Cooking Lessons**: Chapter 2

-:-

Makoto released a weary sigh as she slowly stumbled her way into her sleeping dormitory, absently shutting the door behind her. She gratefully plopped down onto the velvet-upholstered white sofa at the center of the common room, seemingly unaffected by her lavish surroundings.

She had just finished her first lesson as a teacher and it had gone, to put it lightly, horrible.

The eighteen-year-old was well aware that what with being a graduate of their rival school would dredge up some sort of problem, but not on the first day. If it was one thing she had to be careful about it was that Granger girl…she was one of those know it all, ever curious genius types.

She'd probably be asking questions left and right.

"I take it the first day didn't go so well?" A sultry voice muttered.

Makoto only grunted in response, absently grabbing a near-by pillow and blindly chucking it towards the person who had just spoken. The person in question was none other than Haruka Tenou, who just barely dodged the sudden onslaught.

Haruka was four years her senior, a fellow witch and basically her best friend way back in San Francisco before any of them discovered their magical abilities. They managed a close relationship despite having attended rivaling schools and the such.

But after the resident DADA teacher had heard wind of her old comrade taking job at the school, she insisted the tall brunette share dormitories all the while.

"Well they already know I was a Beauxbaton witch and I'm pretty sure someone's gonna try and hex me tomorrow."

"Oh hell, hex them back!" The older female suggested plainly enough, shrugging off her companion's worries. The brunette scowled slightly, head shaking exasperatedly as she propped both feet up onto the marble coffee table.

"If I hexed every witch and warlock that got on my nerve…well, you'd be fucked." Haruka scowled from she lay, sprawled about rather comfortably along the backless divan.

"Hardy har har, Kino. I'd watch yourself if I were you, I am an Auror you know." She informed rather hotly, her sandy blonde tresses shifting and becoming a bright fiery red color.

Makoto gasped slightly, feigning a shocked and thoroughly frightened expression.

"The big bad Auror! Oh stars! You're right, I should be careful…" The brunette paused slightly, a wide and shameless grin spreading her lips. She knew the repercussions of her next words.

"…Ruka."

Makoto managed two feet off the couch before she was tackled back down, a series of pillows pummeled in her face.

-:-

The Great Hall was immersed with lively discussion and laughter that afternoon, children eagerly filling their hungry bellies in preparation for the rest of the day. Some were chatting about the Herbology quiz they had indubitably failed and how the steak and kidney pudding was particularly bland today.

But most of the students were far more engrossed at the cooking lessons now being taught and more importantly – by who.

"Any girl who can cook is hot by my standards." Goyle declared half-heartedly as he eagerly spooned a hefty pile of Sheppard's pie onto his plate.

"Hell, if my foot could cook you'd think it's hot, you bottomless fool." Blaise Zabini growled from across the table, smirking slightly at the chuckling responses his words had received.

"Though I will say she is a fine little thing…" He paused, taking a sip from his chalice, before turning his gaze towards the male at his side.

"Right, Malfoy?"

"I don't get why everyone's making such a big fuss about her!" Pansy suddenly piped up further down the table, scowling rather heavily as she shoveled a forkful of pasta.

"She's freakishly tall…like a man or something. I bet she's a transvestite!"

The others merely rolled their eyes at the girl's claims, head shaking slightly as they turned back to their own respective meals. All but the Malfoy heir who was absently tracing his fingers along the fine, golden rim of the drinking chalice at his side.

He pivoted his head about slightly, neck straining up some as to get a better look at the large dining table established at the far end of the dining hall. The very reason for their discussion was laughing rather uproariously at something, reaching up to cover her mouth for some sort of respectable decency.

He grinned, suddenly reaching over and downing the rest of his drink with one swig.

"I'd say she's more than fine Zabini…she's down right mouth watering."

The surrounding Slytherin male populace erupted into loud, crude laughter as they chimed their agreement. Needless to say, the females did not share their humor, more so was the sour faced Pansy Parkinson.

"I still say she's a transvestite." The Slytherin witch muttered rancorously under her breath, the bitter remark missed under the gales of laughter.

-:-

"Okay class, today we are going to be making banana walnut bread."

Draco sighed a little bit, chin propped atop one curled fist as he managed to stifle a very bored yawn. While his partner Crabbe was eagerly preparing the proper measurements of flour, sugar and the such; poor Draco was left to do nothing but simply sit there.

Everyone about him, Slytherin and Gryffindor alike, were happily stirring and kneading at the strangely sticky, gooey blob of batter for the pastry part of the sweet confection. Even good old Zabini was seemingly gleefully adding his own share in the work, his hands covered in white flour.

The mere idea of even getting his hands _near_ the white stuff made him shudder.

Malfoys did _not_ get their hands dirty. Malfoys did _not_ need to. And more importantly, Malfoys were far too important to do engage in such acts. Things of that sort were left to common folk and those filthy mudbloods.

"Is there a problem, Mr. Malfoy?"

The nineteen-year-old wrenched up at the censorious call, blinking eyes going wide as he suddenly found the Culinary Arts Professor standing at his side.

"What?" He demanded, seemingly irritated by her intrusion.

Makoto scowled at the sharp snap at his words, curled fists settling firmly at the curve of her hips.

"Well, Mr. Malfoy, I wanted to know if there was some sort of problem since your partner here seems to be doing all the work. I don't know if you think this is some sort of joke class but I will clarify any lingering suspicions – it's not."

Draco felt his brow lift with numbing surprise as for the first time in perhaps his life; a girl had the actual gal to upbraid him in such a swift fashion. More surprising was the fact that he didn't seem all too bothered by her public chiding.

In fact, dare he say it, it almost felt…_good_. And the bad, straight to hell kind of good too.

His faintly narrowed liquid blue irises surveyed the area about him, growing somewhat agitated by the curious stares directed his way. He glowered, assuming a more foreboding expression.

That promptly caused the befuddled students to turn their attentions back to the cooking lessons.

"Professor Kino," Draco purred, biting back the knowing smirk that threatened to tug his lips.

"This will not happen again."

He internally grinned when he saw her frosty mask falter slightly, obviously thrown off by his uncharacteristic contrition. She quickly gathered her senses; head shaking as she quickly muttered an acceptance and moved on to the next table.

As thrillingly exciting as it felt, Draco Malfoy was not the type to just be embarrassed like that without some sort of retaliation. And at some point and time, he always got them back.

Always.

-:-

Professor Kino sighed tiredly as she chucked the last loaf of charred burnt banana walnut bread into the trash bin.

She hadn't expected a bunch of fancy, high-end chefs but she certainly didn't think they would be that hapless in the kitchen. The eighteen-year-old had been lucky she had remembered that extinguishing spell or the entire Culinary Arts lab would have exploded.

She groaned, recalling as the Longbottom boy managed to get his pan of batter to burst into flames.

And they weren't even in the oven yet!

Her internal despairs were halted at the sudden round of knocking at her door, causing her to swivel about in her chair and face the new entity.

"Mr. Malfoy!" The brunette exclaimed, a bit stunned to see the student still suited in his apron. He was the last person she expected to see, after the way she had scolded him like a young child that afternoon.

He was probably going to try and drop out or something. He seemed like the type.

"What is it that you need?"

The tall male swept foreword, face perfectly indifferent and void of any sort of inclination as to what he was thinking. It unsettled the new teacher greatly.

"Oh I just wanted to know if it was possible that I could change my apron." He inquired earnestly enough, absently gesturing towards the bright pink pinafore draped about his frame.

Makoto barely stifled a laugh, eyeing the funny garment with glinting emerald eyes. Pink was certainly not the boy's color, nor was the 'Kiss the Cook' phrase emblazoned in bold purple lettering on the front.

"Of course, I'm sorry." The teacher obliged, rising from her seat and shuffling over to an opposing closet. She shifted through the hangers, plucking a simple black apron from the piles.

"I'm afraid you'll have to stick with the 'Kiss the Cook' motto--"

Her words faltered into a faint shriek of surprise as she spun about to hand the garment to the boy and slipped on a carelessly forgotten banana peel. It was out of instinct when her arms reached out and clung to the closest thing possible, in hopes of stabilizing herself.

Needless to say the eighteen-year-old was astounded beyond words when she found herself enshrouded by two very strong arms. She was completely mortified to find herself sprawled atop her student of only a day.

Now Makoto Kino had some highly humiliating, painfully embarrassing moments throughout her short life. There was that time she had ripped her pants in front of the entire school, along with that time she had punched the new chancellor of Beauxbaton's straight in the face.

But this definitely made the top three. Definitely.

She would've gotten straight up right that instant if she hadn't allowed herself to revel at how surprisingly warm the nineteen-year-old warlock was. Or at the amount of perfectly toned musculature hidden under the heavy black cloaks and wooly grey sweaters.

"Are you okay, Professor Kino?" His voice almost growled into her ear and her eyes lolled back into her head as she felt the heat of his breath sear the skin of her neck. It sent sparks down her spine and to all the spots in her body she never knew existed.

She was suddenly very aware of her surroundings and how extremely stuffy this room was. It was getting really hard to breath and she was certain it had gotten ten billion degrees hotter.

She was also very aware of how this Draco boy was holding her and how one arm was snaked around her middle, tight and firm, to keep her in place all the while. But more pressing was his other arm, as his hand had nestled comfortably at the curve of her hip, nearly cupping the outside of her thigh.

"Professor Kino?" There he was again. Growling! Growling in the sexiest way possible and his hands grasping at her with this _need_ and all at once, this command.

He was in control. He was the _man_.

This was straight out of a perverted movie – a teacher and a student, a careless mishap and this was where they were to begin the treacherous descent into lust. Though, she was more ashamed at the fact that she actually began to feel excited at the idea than anything else.

Makoto shook her head shamefully, hastily scrambling to her feet and hurrying out the door. She didn't bother helping Draco up. Or explaining herself.

She just turned the hall and almost ran all the way back to the dormitories.

-:-

I was more than surprised to see someone actually review this story. Sailor Moon stories seem to be a dying breed..especially ones involving Makoto.

- To those wondering, Haruka is a Metamorphagus: the ability to shift one's appearance at will; including hair and other physical features.

DragonGirli: Draco certainly is a sly one…and a sexy one too. Hehe. Thanks for reviewing!

DarkKitty04:I considered making Draco the teacher…but I thought it more twisted to have Makoto, a teacher, brought to her knees. Eh, I'm a weirdo I know.

Serenity Blossom: Hahah, yes, our poor Mako has no idea what I'm gonna put her through. I mean Draco. :

Review! (Seriously. I'm not kidding.)


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